


hija de la muerte

by derschwarzeprinz (Brambleshadow_of_WindClan)



Series: Ich will mit dir im Nichts ertrinken [2]
Category: Elisabeth - Levay/Kunze
Genre: F/M, References to Sex, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 07:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20403679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brambleshadow_of_WindClan/pseuds/derschwarzeprinz
Summary: The one where Death finds out he’s going to be a father for the first time ever in hisvery longexistence.





	hija de la muerte

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, der Tod is 2002 Essen!Uwe Kröger. Elisabeth is Pia Douwes.
> 
> Title is a reference to "Hijo de la Luna" by Mecano (I couldn't think of anything else). There's also references to another fic set in this verse that I still need to finish writing, but chronologically takes place before this fic.
> 
> [StormXPadme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormXPadme/pseuds/StormXPadme) and tod-von-mii (over on Tumblr) are completely awful enablers and part of this resulted from a joke conversation we had a few months back. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> Um... let's see... warnings for teen pregnancy (Elisabeth is 16 at the time of this fic; she gave birth at age 17) if that squicks you out, and mentions of past sexual content (but nothing explicit).

** _“N_ ** _o! No, no, nonono, no!”_

The death-angels looked on with half bored, part interested, and part very much amused expressions as their boss, Death himself, paced in the main room of his underworld lair with what could only be described as _panic_ all over his face. His black coat flared out behind him as he turned and strode the length of the room again.

This wasn’t something they saw every day, after all. Death usually kept his emotions in check, but after meeting that young Bavarian princess, Elisabeth, the current Empress of Austria…

_“**How**_ _did this happen?”_ Der Tod raked a hand through his blond hair, turned on his heel. _“I’m_ **_Death_**_._ _I_ **_take_** _life, not…”_ He stopped, gestured helplessly with his hands.

“Well…” one of his angels began dryly, “when two beings—”

Death cut them off with a low snarl and warning glare.

“Here,” another Todesengel said in a helpful tone, with a look on her face that was not at all helpful or reassuring, “we prepared a PowerPoint presentation for you.”

Der Tod could only stare as a projector, tablet, and screen appeared out of nowhere with, in deed, a PowerPoint presentation already running. (Sometimes, he resented the fact that his realm existed outside of time and his angels could pull in objects from any period in Earth’s timeline. This was one of those times—especially since they had made their disapproval of his relationship with Elisabeth quite clear as of late.)

The first slide, labeled “Point 1”, read simply: _You had sex with her. _Slide two had the title “Point 1.5” and the caption: _For an ancient deity, you fail at sex education._ The third slide, titled, “Point 2”, read _You got your young Empress pregnant. The End._ Then it clicked off, and both projector and screen with tablet vanished to who-knew-where.

For a second, incredulous disbelief won out over his panic. Death glared at his angels with narrowed blue/green eyes. _“I knew_ **_that_** _much; thanks for your help,”_ he growled sarcastically, and satisfaction flashed through him when a few of the death-angels fidgeted nervously under his stare. It faded when his thoughts turned to Elisabeth, and he turned on his heel to start pacing again.

“You know there are ways to do that _without_ getting Sisi knocked up, right?” he heard one of the Todesengel say.

_“I didn’t know I_ **_could_**_,”_ Death snapped without thinking.

He didn’t have to look to know his angels and the Fates were laughing at his… predicament. “Had a little accident, did we?” one of the angels purred mockingly.

Der Tod curled his upper lip in a silent snarl at that. _“This shouldn’t even **be** possible! I’m not human, never have been, and I’m **certainly** not meant to… **create **life. And I never intended to—”_ He cut himself off before he revealed anything _else_, like how terrified he was at the thought of being a father for the first time ever in his _very long_ existence.

Some of the angels recognized that it was best to leave him alone and not antagonize him further, and they quickly faded away into the shadows. Soon, the only ones left in the room were Death himself and Samael, one of his lieutenants.

The death-angel studied him for a long moment but remained silent. Then, in a neutral tone that gave away nothing of his own thoughts, the angel asked, “Are you going to tell her?”

_“That I’m the father of her unborn child? Her **first** child, no less?”_ Death shook his head; laughed bitterly, humorlessly. _“She was surprised enough to find out from one of her attendants that she’s pregnant.”_ Even at seven weeks—just within two months (of her marriage as well, no less)—the young Empress was already showing. _“How do you think she’d react to finding out she’s carrying a demigod—**my **child?”_

Again, the death-angel’s expression revealed nothing. “You won’t know unless you tell her, my lord.” He paused, then added, “Politely.”

Death shot him a look through narrowed eyes, but Samael’s tone and face were carefully blank. He had to admit, his lieutenant had a point. And he _did_ want to visit Elisabeth, make sure she was all right…

The decision made, he dismissed Samael with a flick of his hand. _“Make sure the other angels don’t do anything stupid.”_

Samael dipped his head in acknowledgement, then turned and was gone in a brief flutter of wings. (It was best, the angel figured, _not _to mention the betting pool the other angels had already set up amongst themselves.)

Elisabeth was being attended to by her maidservants when Death finally managed to track down her whereabouts in the Hofburg. In shadow form, he slipped beneath the door and joined some shadows cast over the walls from the well-lit windows.

Irritation flashed through him at the knowledge she wasn’t currently alone. Possibilities started swirling. He could telepathically tell her to dismiss her ladies-in-waiting; he could stop time like he had at her wedding; he could cloak himself so only she would see and hear him…

Or he could glamour himself to look like one of her maidservants.

He considered that last one, then discarded it. As amusing as it would be to see her reaction when she figured out it was him, he wasn’t in the right mood for that particular trick. He could always save it for a later time.

Speaking of time…

With a thought, the room was held in stasis and her maidservants each froze in place. Death dropped back into his human form, stepped out of the shadows, and over to Elisabeth.

Her eyes widened briefly when she saw him, her hands moving automatically, protectively covering her slightly rounded abdomen.

His own gaze dropped to follow her hands. All at once something sharp, possessive clawed at him. _Mine_. He shoved the thought back, but the possessive feeling remained. Then he realized the look in her eyes had been fear, and he gave a slight shake of his head. _“I am not here for that, Elisabeth. Relax. I only wanted to see you.”_

She relaxed enough to remove her hands from her stomach, and he moved closer to her after a second’s hesitation. _“You are with child.” _An obvious statement, he knew, but as he said it there was a catch in his voice—he didn’t like that.

“Yes. Clearly.”

He ignored the bite in her voice. _“Your husband’s?”_ He meant himself, wanted to see if she remembered anything of what he’d told her the first night they made love (or so Elisabeth had called it—and surely she was right, for what _else _could this emotion be that burned within him ever since he first saw her, when he continued to visit her, when their bodies had entwined together on her bed in another reality?).

Her unflinching gaze met his, flared now with hot anger. “Of course. Who else?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say _Der Kaiser_ and see if that jolted her memory, but Death held it back and instead lowered his head in a slightly mocking gesture of respect. As his eyes again fell on her rounded abdomen, he heard himself murmur, _“May I?”_ even as his hand slowly reached out.

If she made a noise to acknowledge his request, he didn’t hear it; as it was, she remained still beneath his touch when his hand contacted the fabric of her dress, the bump beneath. Again, that possessive feeling rose sharply, clawed at him—mixed with the sudden certainty that she was carrying _his_ daughter (it _was_ a girl: he could sense it, see Elisabeth with her newborn in her arms) and his own lingering disbelief that the creature growing inside the young Empress was half _him_ and half _her_.

His eyes lifted, met hers, and whatever she saw there had her relaxing completely, her facial features softening. _“Elisabeth…” _Her name left his lips in a whisper as he spread his fingers to completely cover what he could, moved without thinking so he was standing close behind her, embracing her with both hands on her womb in an entirely possessive gesture. Here, holding her in this way… he couldn’t help but feel a twisted sort of pleasure that it was _his_ seed taken root within her instead of her cousin’s; that the first child she would bear was one from the realm of death.

_“Don’t you remember?” _he asked softly, his breath warm on her ear. _“How you shivered in my arms when I last held you like this? When I came to provide you comfort from the loneliness brought to you by your Emperor? Later, when we went riding with the wind as shadows that night?”_ Something he was sure humans would have called regret pierced him that he had slightly tampered with her memories to ensure she thought their time together had only been a dream. It sharpened when she turned her head to look at him, uncertainty in her brown eyes.

“But those were just dreams, were they not?”

Death hesitated, wondering how much to tell her. _“No. They weren’t.”_ It was best to leave it at that and let her draw her own conclusions. As much as he wanted to tell her outright, the words wouldn’t leave his mouth and remained stuck in his throat.

Was he seeing things, or was that a faint smile on her lips? “Ah,” she said, with a tone that said she knew—or suspected—what he wasn’t telling her.

To avoid looking at her, he pressed his lips to where her neck met shoulder, the bare strip of skin there that wasn’t covered up by her dress and closed his eyes. _This_ had never been his intention when he’d considered themselves married at her wedding; when he’d taken advantage of Franz Joseph’s habit of constantly leaving her alone to visit her, comfort her, lie with her; when he’d visited her again later that same night to fulfill her dream of riding with the wind by turning them both into shadow and then, afterwards, joined again with her when she’d made it clear she wanted him; and yet…

Seeing Elisabeth, quietly holding her, it calmed his earlier panic—made him feel like he could handle this and, if she wanted him, be there for her to help her whenever she needed it.

_“Der letzte Tanz gehört allein nur mir,“_ he whispered—a reminder now meant to comfort her. _“Den letzen Tanz, den letzten Tanz tanz ich allein mit dir.“_

She stirred against him, lulled into relaxation by his touch, his voice, his closeness—he seemed to have that effect on her in a way he never did with any other soul he’d met before—and he stifled a soft groan at the _very_ human male reaction her movement brought out in him. He _liked_ this, Death realized, now that he’d gotten over his earlier panic: Being with Elisabeth, holding her with his hands on her, knowing her womb was growing round and heavy with _their _unborn daughter…

He’d _claimed _her, even if she didn’t fully realize it yet.

His mouth moved from her shoulder to just below her ear. _“I know I said I’m not a dog to be summoned, Elisabeth, but… if you need me for **anything**… think of me and I’ll come to you.”_ Yes, he’d stopped time to spend these few stolen moments with her, but it only applied to this room and he’d overstayed his welcome. When he felt her body shiver as she realized the underlying meaning of his words, he unfroze her maidservants and faded into shadow at the same second, taking cover among the other shadows within the room and leaving Elisabeth looking slightly dazed, flushed, confused.

Death lingered for a few seconds more, then moved again through the veil between worlds. There, he watched, unseen, as Elisabeth’s servants swarmed around her like concerned mother hens—and the young Empress searched the room for _him_ even though he knew she knew he was no longer there.

Something in him bared its fangs, gave a low, dark laugh. He would have her eventually, he knew—everyone belonged to him in the end—but as much as the sixteen-year-old Empress claimed she belonged to herself… she was already completely _his_.

_Die Schatten werden länger. Mit dir stirbt die Welt. Halt dich nicht fest daran … _


End file.
